


Gunplay

by theangrywarlock



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gunplay, M/M, here there be smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:04:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangrywarlock/pseuds/theangrywarlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feuilly. Enjolras. Alone one night to clean some weapons and it dissolves into hard-core fucking with one of said weapons involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gunplay

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first published fanfic within this fandom so it feels right that I'm putting it up on here first. I make no apologies for its content.

Just as rich students had the idea of the working class, so too did the working class have their ideas of rich students. To Feuilly, he entertained the prospect of Enjolras' rooms as being opulent, filled with decorative furniture that was likely sprawling with seditious material. The idea presented him with an almost hypocrisy that he couldn't shake off. Not that he would blame Enjolras for wanting to be comfortable. Every human yearned for some sort of safety, and after spending his days, and many nights, in all corners of France, it made sense that his home would be somewhere clean and away from the streets. Every bird needed a perch to rest its wings, and Enjolras would sleep on a comfortable bed, and be ready to rise the next morning and continue the stressful regime.

He had to stop and stare at the scene before him when he opened the door to Enjolras' apartment. His business there consisted merely of dropping off a few more armaments since Enjolras told him to come by. Feuilly was not without his areas of hoarding, but he conceded with his chief's demands mainly because he wanted to see where Enjolras lived.

There was a small part of him that whispered sibilantly into his head. You want to see where he sleeps. But that whisper was easily ignored.

So he had obeyed and went to Enjolras' apartment, told the landlady that he was expected, ascended the stairs, and opened the door to the unlocked apartment only to find a rather cramped, two bedroom flat that was filled with far more than just seditious reading material and furniture. In fact, the furniture looked more threadbare than the walls of the place, the phamphlets were stacked high upon the desk against the wall, and the floor was sprawling with weaponry. Enjolras sat in the middle of the mess, using several small utensils to clean out the barrel of a gun.

"Shut the door."

Feuilly did so and locked it. "I trust you're not expecting anyone else?"

Enjolras didn't look up from his work. "I recognized your tread on the stairs. No one else will be coming in tonight."

Feuilly wasn't sure whether or not to be disappointed by the lack of his expectations regarding the room. He knew Enjolras could afford better. There was no hypocrisy to be found here, but at the same time, he wondered if Enjolras even had any sort of perch to call his own, or if he just ate, breathed, slept, and dreamed the Republic all day round.

He made his way to where Enjolras sat and put his patched bag onto the floor. Opening it, he began taking out the few pistols he had collected. "Cleaning day?" He asked, attempting to get his chief into a conversation. It wasn't often they were alone together as Enjolras moved briskly from one obligation to another. Most often their paths crossed in the Musain, but Feuilly had his work and Enjolras either had classes he rarely attended except to keep up appearances or he was on his way to another meeting to either gather newspapers, recruit others, or speak with other groups.

He knew he could just ask Enjolras for some time alone, but that brought with it a sense of guilt that he knew was unreasonable. Enjolras would not mind being taken off course, but Feuilly minded very much being the one to derail the other man. Now that he was with Enjolras, he was torn between talking and just enjoying the silence.

"It needs to happen. It's one thing to hold onto weapons, but since we're uncertain when the precise day of rebellion will be upon us, we need to take care that everything stays ready. Even if it takes us another year." Enjolras placed the barrel of the gun back into place with a click. Satisfied, he took up another gun and then paused as Feuilly's hand covered his own.

"How long has it been since you last slept?"

The words were typically Combeferre's and Enjolras merely raised an eyebrow at them. Feuilly gave him a roguish grin. "I ask because while you do not tremble with exhaustion, you do seem a bit more agitated than usual. I came in here expecting to see practically the rooms of the bourgeois, and instead I come across something I probably would have bought for myself if I was making a few francs more. I do not worry about you, Enjolras. I worry for you. There have been times when I've collapsed due to an exhaustion that has nothing to do with tiredness and everything to do with all that I'm thinking about concerning the revolution and work. I worry about making ends meet. I worry about the gendarmes catching up with us. I worry about myself, I worry about you, I worry about the others. Are you afflicted with such things?"

Enjolras' look softened at the explanation. "I worry, yes," he finally conceded. "But it is tempered. I have no worries about the revolution. It is as pointless as worrying about the date for a known exam. It will come and there is time to prepare for it. There is no use in concerning oneself with the inevitable when you've time to prepare, but along the way, there are obstacles. Moments of unpredictability, such as the next time Bahorel needs bailing out of jail, or should a gendarme discover the backroom."

"Some would say that those unpredicable moments make life interesting," Feuilly offered as he moved closer to Enjolras. He took up one of the pistols he had brought with him. It had a long muzzle and was capable of firing three shots at a time. "Unloaded," he admitted.

Enjolras nodded. "Ammunition is harder to come by than guns. I like that since it makes bullets so inaccessible regarding street crime. One is less likely to waste a bullet for an innocent."

"But it makes things harder on us." Not that Feuilly really cared to state the obvious. Nor did he care for the change of topic, though that was fully expected when it came to Enjolras. "Do you ever think about yourself? You mentioned Bahorel before. I know you think of us, but what of your own life?"

"What about it?"

The confusion was also unsurprising. "You tell me," Feuilly prodded. "Does anything give you pleasure? I don't mean a grisette or drinking or any of the other vices that the others indulge in, but what makes you content aside from anything involving the Republic?"

Enjolras had no answer, a fact made obvious by the enormous gulf of silence that came between them, and Feuilly could not help feel a bit sad. It was not pity, truly, but an ache within himself. Enjolras was a man he more than looked up to. He thought that in another life, he may have liked to have been Enjolras, working himself down to the bone for the rights of others. Had he not been an orphan and poverty-stricken, he would have more time to do as Enjolras did with his time and move from group to group. They both acted as they did because of their means, but that didn't stop Feuilly from wanting to be more.

Enjolras would approve, he knew. One cannot speak on wanting to make mankind more and not approve an individual wanting to surpass his station.

At the same time, Feuilly wondered about his friend's station. To him, Enjolras had already risen, but to hear Enjolras tell it, it was almost as though there was nowhere Enjolras sought to rise. At the end of the revolution, were they successful and Feuilly liked to believe that they would be, what would be there for them?

His friends had their futures, their studies. To an extent, they knew what they would do with their lives. For Feuilly, it meant the end of poverty, the end of minimal wages. He would be able to afford more and raise himself up above the clouds if he so wanted.

But Enjolras? The man would be more likely to burn himself out in the coming of the storm and Feuilly could not abide that. Without the revolution, what did Enjolras have? When the Republic was upon them, what would his friend do with his life? He had no normalcy to return to, no vice to indulge in, and likely no family that he would go back to since his time would still be spent in Paris and Feuilly could not imagine the city without his friend.

It was fear that drew him closer to Enjolras, a gnawing panic that was so small in comparison to all the other worries he had regarding their situation that made him crush his lips to Enjolras'.

He wasn't sure what it was that made his friend return the kiss. He certainly could not sense any desperation or fear from the other man. "You don't understand so much," Feuilly whispered when they broke off, his arms around Enjolras' body to keep him in place. His pistol rested against Enjolras' back, metal touching the white cloth of his friend's shirt. "For tonight, I want to show you why I worry."

What happened came in the middle of sound. The dull thud as Feuilly pushed Enjolras backwards onto the floor, the clattering of metal as Feuilly moved aside the guns and knives on the floor, the gentle wisps of clothes as they flew through the air, tossed aside in the heat of the moment until Feuilly was barechested and staring down, inches away from Enjolras' own face, seeing far more of his friend than he ever thought he would.

"I know why you worry," Enjolras said through bruised lips that made Feuilly wonder if he did that in a moment of feverish happiness.

"You don't. My worry for you is far different. I do not believe you will die, either on a scaffold, or upon a barricade, or rotting in prison. Your death is not my worry at all. My concern is for your life." Feuilly still kept a grip on his pistol and he brought it up between them so that it nestled against Enjolras' bare chest and Feuilly's hand. "You will bring about a revolution," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I do not worry about that either."

He dragged the pistol downwards, along Enjolras' torso, through the soft golden hair that lined a route between abdomen and groin. Feuilly's gaze never strayed from Enjolras' who was looking at him with an expression that veered between trust and fear.

Was it fear of Feuilly? Surely not. Feuilly knew better than that. In fact, if Feuilly was to be honest with himself, he could pinpoint exactly what that terror was reserved for, and it would be in both their best interests to ignore it. Feuilly grappled with that same fear every day. Fear of the unknown, of sinking in too deeply to something that may give him little else but grief. He had been lucky to find the Amis, for they helped in casting light over such fears.

Enjolras had him now, and he would stay by his side throughout.

So he let his friend watch as he took up the oil used for the gun and slid it over the muzzle. "We will stand by your side for the revolution. I do not worry about that. A few may die, but I believe in our success as I believe in the will of the people," Feuilly continued as he finished. The oil made his fingers slippery and he rubbed them on his pants before moving the pistol lower.

The slight touches, the anticipation, and Feuilly liked to think, the presence of Feuilly himself had brought Enjolras to a half-hard position. Feuilly's hand covered Enjolras' groin, his eyes still not straying from his friend's face. "And just as I do not worry about that, you should not worry about this."

He slipped the muzzle of the gun between Enjolras' arse, his fingers spreading the man just enough so that he could have better access and manipulate the gun easier. Enjolras' eyes widened and they kept on widening as Feuilly pushed the weapon inside his body, stopping only when the pistol's barrel was fully immersed inside of him.

"Breathe."

Enjolras obeyed on instinct as Feuilly waited for Enjolras' body to relax. The gun was thin, thinner than his cock, and he knew full well of his friend's virginity. Lord know the others had teased Enjolras enough for it.

"There we go," he continued, watching as Enjolras' eyes lidded and his lips parted to let go of any residual air he'd been holding back. "Trust me, Enjolras." Feuilly had to trust himself in return as he started moving the gun in and out of the man. It wasn't so much the thickness that he had to focus on right now, but the angle. "What I worry for isn't the violence, it's the pleasure. Do you know how to achieve your own pleasure?"

Enjolras didn't speak and for awhile, Feuilly was content to just let him feel the slender violation as he moved it into the man's body. His muscles would get used to the feel of the cold metal in short time, which was only the first step.

"You probably don't. You never think anything about what you want for yourself. Maybe you think it would be going against Patria if you did, but it's no crime to want, Enjolras. It's human, and it's what gives us our drive. I want a better life. Combeferre wants to know everything. Courfeyrac wants more hats. And right now, you will want to get off on this."

With that, Feuilly changed the angle of the gun and knew he was successful at brushing the muzzle against his friend's prostate when Enjolras abruptly jerked upwards, now achingly hard, and letting out a harsh gasp.

"Yes, that's right. That's what I need to see from you," Feuilly encouraged. "Like that, Enjolras, like that. I want you to take your pleasure. It's willingly given by me."

Enjolras proved to be a willing student as Feuilly would have guessed. He moved his body now in an attempt to receive that same pleasure he had felt, and Feuilly was happy to let him have it. Every shift of his friend's hips, every needful groan that Enjolras let out was music to him. It didn't so much prove that Enjolras human, for Feuilly never needed proof of that, but it was confirmation that even after the revolution was all said and done and after the Republic was in its place, Enjolras could still chase after something.

Even if that something was so simple as an orgasm.

Feuilly watched Enjolras' hips buck as he rode the gun. He kept his hand steady and unmoving, letting Enjolras have whatever pleasure he could take, even though he so longed to thrust the weapon in and out of his friend to make him writhe and perhaps even get out a scream.

"Take what you want. You're beautiful when you're in the heat of passion. You inspire. Even like this, you take away my own insecurities, my own worries about you. And you like pleasing others, don't you?" Feuilly asked, coaxing, though if he had to be honest, he would have to admit to loving the control he had over the situation. Far too often, he relied on Enjolras for direction. Here, the tables were turned in the most delicious manner.

His own erection could wait, for there was something so beautiful about this image that he longed to keep it in his memories as long as he could and ride out the moment.

Enjolras was certainly taking and if the speed of his movements were any indication, he would soon climax. Feuilly could not help but smile as Enjolras' back arched and he let out a small keening sound as he came. He felt the gun in his hand shift as Enjolras' inner muscles clamped down around the metal, and it wasn't hard to envision his own cock between the pale buttocks, but that would have to wait. Tonight was about relieving both his anxiety and granting Enjolras something of a haven.

Only when Enjolras' body sank back down to the floor did Feuilly move the pistol out of him. He tossed the weapon aside, uncaring where it landed as he moved his body up to lean over Enjolras. His friend's face, with his gaze unfocused, his hair mussed, his expression flushed and wanting; this above all else was what Feuilly wanted to remember.

He couldn't help leaning down, his body atop Enjolras', not minding the sticky mess against his friend's chest, and kissed him. He needed that closeness just as much as he knew Enjolras would, and his friend returned the kiss with as much need as Feuilly knew he possessed. It wasn't the sharp need that carried the aroma of smoke and gunpowder, but the need that he had felt before he met the Amis and joined with the group. The need of human contact, companionship, and understanding.

"Equality," he said while pulling back from Enjolras to sit up. "I know you want that from others, but from yourself most of all." He undid his trousers, getting himself as naked as Enjolras, which was more than enough of a hint.

Feuilly had received blowjobs before, but they hadn't been in earnest. This was an odd way of thinking about them, he knew, but there were precious few adjectives that flew to his mind when Enjolras' mouth was upon him. The ones he received before had been cursory, granted to him only so that he would grant the other pleasure in return. There was no such thing as something for nothing.

What Enjolras lacked in experience, he made up for in enthusiasm and curiosity. He moved with the express intent of giving Feuilly as much pleasure as he could while seeking to figure out what made Feuilly twitch and moan. He learned quickly how to handle his teeth so they did not clip his skin. Feuilly had to give him little direction, preferring instead to see what Enjolras chose to do, and he would much rather run his fingers through the golden mass of hair and focus on the sensations on his cock than give orders.

He had told Enjolras that if his friend wanted pleasure, he ought to take it. Likewise, if his friend sought to give pleasure, he would have to work at it.

Enjolras' mouth moved steadily as he rolled the tip of Feuilly's cock in his mouth, taking more of his friend inside the wet heat. He did not gag, for common sense still prevailed against his need to grant Feuilly everything he could. He did, however, tease. His tongue caressed the underside of Feuilly's cock and he suckled against a vein before gently pushing Feuilly downwards so that he could take one of his friend's balls into his mouth.

Feuilly had rarely felt anything akin to this and he was hard-pressed to keep himself from orgasming too quickly, especially when Enjolras set to massaging his sac with his tongue. He feared his grip on Enjolras' hair was becoming a bit too unbearable and it took a great deal of conscious thought to loosen up his grip, only to have it tighten once again as Enjolras rolled one of his balls in his mouth.

"Fuck, yes," he exclaimed, the beginning of a string of words that he would never admit to saying when he wasn't in the throes of bliss. Enjolras' mouth came back up to feast upon his cock, that perfect tongue wrapping around the shaft, the mouth normally used for driving people into a frenzy through words was now doing the same to Feuilly through rather different actions.

Enjolras' hands held down Feuilly's hips to prevent him from thrusting into the depths of Enjolras' throat.

"Going to...pull back, Enjolras."

Enjolras didn't and Feuilly couldn't bear to think why, or think of anything really, as he came inside Enjolras' mouth. Feuilly's eyes shut in that moment of supreme ecstasy, though he couldn't help but think of flooding his friend in all orifices if given the chance.

Enjolras, for his part, coughed a little. This did not go as well as he hoped, but to be fair, he had little idea of how much another man could produce. He swallowed quickly, but even so a bit of Feuilly's semen dripped down his chin. Before he could wipe it away out of embarrassment at not succeeding fully, Feuilly pulled him upwards so that he could meet Enjolras' mouth. Feuilly's fingers wiped away the bit against Enjolras' chin.

"You're even more radiant than before," Feuilly told his chief who looked at him with such a pleased expression that Feuilly almost wept.

"I didn't know gun-cleaning could be so enjoyable," Enjolras said before returning the kiss. Feuilly felt his friend's body rub against his bare leg.

There was a pleasant surprise he found in Enjolras being aroused once again. Had sucking him off driven the man into another state of arousal? Had it been the kiss? Had it been all of the above.

"As you said," Enjolras stated, his teeth biting Feuilly's bottom lip, "if you want something, you ought to take it."

Feuilly smiled, this time it was close to feral as he remembered that little whisper in his head as he was debating whether or not to go to Enjolras' place. "Show me where you sleep."


End file.
